


Tequila

by sg_wonderland



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:50:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m always going to be sorry I missed this party, aren’t I?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tequila

Tequila

“I’m always going to be sorry I missed this party, aren’t I?” Daniel swings wildly around to face me, my hands instantly grasping his sodden shirt to hold him up. This is one of those moments you’d give an awful lot for a camera. Daniel is fully dressed, glasses and all, in the shower with water raining down on him. He’s gorgeously plastered.

“Jack!” He exclaims excitedly. “You’re home!”

“Yeah, and so are you. Mostly.” I gently remove his dripping glasses, shaking my head as I lay them on the counter. 

“Oh, wow,” he looks around, blinking the water out of his eyes. “I can see now.”

“I doubt that,” I reply crisply as I try to unbutton his shirt, which is almost impossible to do since it’s wet. With an oath, I realize that turning the water off would help tremendously. “Daniel, stand still until I can get your clothes off.”

“Jack,” he leans dangerously toward me. “Shhhh. We can’t. Not now.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” I drop his shirt onto the shower floor and begin on his jeans. “I don’t think you’d know if we did or didn’t.” His answer is to try to kiss me, sloppily. “Daniel, just a quick question. Why did you get in the shower fully clothed, with your glasses on?” His jeans cling and fight me as I pull them and his boxers down. “And how am I supposed to get your shoes off?”

Daniel tries to help me by balancing himself on one foot and ends up splatting his bare ass on the shower floor. I shrug and take advantage of his position to untie his brand new, expensive and now sodden Nikes. He is easier to undress at this angle. Now I just have to haul his ass up and pour him into bed. “Okay, let’s get up, shall we?” I grab him under the arms and jerk him to his feet. Unfortunately, he has too much forward momentum going and we end up sprawled across the commode, the lid of which is fortunately closed. “Yeah, let’s just take a moment to catch our breath, shall we?” Speaking of which, his smells like a brewery. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell Fraiser to keep you out of the tequila bottle.”

He giggles, slapping his hand over his mouth. “Jack! I can’t fit in a tequila bottle! Besides, there’s a worm in there already.” His eyes are big and bright and glazed over.

Keeping him balanced on my lap, I grab a couple of towels from the basket by the shower. “Now, let’s get you dried off.” I drape one over his hair and gingerly set him on his feet, holding him up while I stand. “Just keep that one on your hair, Daniel.” He’s trying his best to wrap it turban-style around his hair; he’s failing miserably. I dry him as best as I can before depositing him on the commode. “Sit and don’t move, okay?” He nods obediently and I dart into the bedroom to grab underwear and something for him to sleep in. He is still sitting but he is perusing his glasses with a quizzical expression. I really, really wish I had the camera now. He is inspecting his glasses, a towel draped over his head, bare-assed naked on the commode.

“Jack, why can’t I see out of my glasses?” He puts them on and squints up at me. “You’re all bluzzy.”

I gently take them out of his hands. “That’s not the glasses, sugar. I’m afraid you’re the one who’s all bluzzy. But I’ll clean them for you and you’ll be able to see as good as new.”

“Okay,” he agrees happily, lifting his feet to help me dress him in the boxers and jammie bottoms.

“Upsie daisy.” I haul him to his feet.

“That’s a funny saying. Upsie daisy. Whassit mean?”

“Well, Daniel, you’re the linguist. You tell me.” I ease him down on his side of the bed, holding him semi-upright with one hand while I pull the covers down with the other. “Here we go, hop in.”

Unfortunately, he tries to hop. I manage to re-position him so that he falls on the bed and not away from it. “Let me get the covers out, yeah, move your ass. There we go, all tucked up nice and dry.” I turn off the light and take a moment to sweep the wet hair off his forehead. “You’re not sick or anything, are you?”

He blinks at me owlishly. “Not sick.”

“No, just drunk.” I kiss his cheek. “I am going to kill Fraiser one of these days. Why’d they dump you here and not at your apartment?” I don’t expect to get an answer.

“S’where Shamanet told the taxi man to bring me.” He says, as if this makes all the sense in the world. It does, if you think about it. If he was drunk enough that no one was able to drive him home, then they sent him to the easiest place, which is my place.

“So I need to kill both Fraiser and Carter?” 

“Shh. Not kill nobody. Head hurts. Sleep now?” 

I kiss his forehead. “Whatever you say, sugar, I won’t kill anyone. Yes, you can sleep now.” I sit there listening to him snore and make a vow I’m not missing Fraiser’s next birthday, no matter what. I head to the bathroom to clean up after him, reflecting that it’s better than the last birthday party I missed. At least this time, he came home with his clothes on.


End file.
